Page 10 of Her Mountain Boss (Honey Ridge #3)
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Yes. Please.”
Just then, a horn blares from behind us, and Ford eases the truck through the intersection.
“Tell me, kitten,” he says, his eyes on the road. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”
I hesitate, my cheeks burning, my throat dry, my heart pounding. I’ve never told anyone the depraved things that go through my mind. I bite my lip, looking out the window at the town, trying to find the words to explain. I’m not used to talking about this stuff.
“I…I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know how to explain the things I…the things that get me off. Sometimes they feel wrong.”
Ford gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. “You can tell me, Sophia. I want to know everything about you. I want to know every dirty little thought that goes through your mind.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this. I can be brave and say these words out loud.
Deep down, I know that I’m safe with Ford.
Which is crazy, given that I haven’t even known him for a week.
But there’s something about his voice, his touch, the way he looks at me that makes me feel that safety in my bones.
Like my body and soul know that he’s the one who’s meant to take care of me.
“I fantasize about being praised,” I start, a slight wobble to my voice. “Being told I’m a good girl. Being…” I lick my lips and swallow. “Submissive.”
Ford makes a low sound, an approving rumble that makes me rub my thighs together. “Go on, kitten,” he says, encouraging me gently.
“I think about being on my knees,” I continue, my voice steadier now. “About pleasing someone. About being used for their pleasure. I think about being spanked, and tied up, and being used like a…like a…” My mouth goes dry and my courage falters.
“Like a sweet little fuck toy,” Ford finishes for me, and I suck in a sharp breath, not because he’s wrong, but because he’s completely right.
His hand moves slowly up my thigh, not touching me where I ache for him.
Just high enough to tease. “You like the idea of giving up control to someone you can trust,” he says, his thumb drawing maddening little circles on my thigh.
“You want to be told what to do, and you want to obey. You want to be a sweet, special good girl.”
I can feel the heat coming off of my face right now. It’s so hot inside this truck. “Yes,” I manage. “I want to be your good girl, Ford. I want you to tell me what to do. I want to be your dirty little step-niece.”
He exhales sharply at that, his knuckles going white on the wheel. “Tell me what you thought about last night when you had a toy between your pretty thighs.”
“I imagined giving you my virginity. I imagined how good it would feel to let you stretch my tight pussy open. I imagined all the ways you could be rough with me, use me, all while telling me what a good girl I am for you. I imagined you leaving hand prints on my ass, about you coming on my breasts.” I force my gaze to his.
We’ve arrived at a tidy-looking office building, the truck idling by the front doors.
Ford’s gaze is molten as he stares at me, his chest heaving.
“Mostly, I thought about what it would be like to be yours, Ford. Completely yours, no matter the consequences.”
His nostrils flare slightly. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that? Not just because you’re beautiful, or because you’re smart, but because of that dirty fucking mouth. Because you want the same things I do. Because, I think, like me, you know something rare and special is happening here.”
I swallow and nod. “I’ve felt it since I first saw you.”
“Me too, kitten. I tried to fight it for a couple of days. Tried to do the right thing by staying away from you. But I think I was mixed up. I don’t think I was meant to stay away from you at all.”
The air is thick and heavy between us, and for a minute, I think he might kiss me. But instead, he turns off the truck, undoes his seatbelt and hops out, leaving me trying to catch my breath.
If this is what the conversation’s like, what’s going to happen when he kisses me? Touches me? I’m going to explode into a thousand little pieces, never to be put back together the same again.
We make quick work of the catering delivery, and I’m a little surprised at the easy way Ford introduces me to everyone.
He tells the people we meet that I’m the newest employee at the lodge, that I have a background in hospitality services, that he’s happy to have me on board.
And yet, despite the fact that he’s introducing me as his employee, he doesn’t hesitate to lead me out of the room with a hand on the small of my back.
With the delivery finished, we head back to the truck, but instead of driving back up the mountain road to the resort, Ford takes us further into town.
“I promised you breakfast,” he says easily, as though he can read my mind.
After a few minutes, we pull up to a cute, retro-style diner just off the main street that cuts through the core of Honey Ridge.
The parking lot is nearly full, and when we step inside the restaurant, it’s bustling with chatter and the clinking of cutlery.
The Beatles are playing over the sound system, and the air smells like coffee and bacon, making my stomach rumble again.
Ford lifts his hand in greeting to several people, nodding at others. He seems to know everyone here.
He leads us to a booth in the corner, but instead of sitting across from me, he slides in right beside me.
He casually drapes his arm behind my shoulders, his fingers toying with a curled lock that’s come loose from my bun.
It’s a possessive gesture, and one that doesn’t go unnoticed.
I can feel the weight of people’s stares, their curiosity palpable.
“Everyone’s looking at us,” I murmur, leaning into his touch despite the attention.
What if people are scandalized that Ford is…
dating? Fucking? Pre-fucking? Is that a thing?
What if they’re shocked that he’s doing whatever with a girl who is half his age, his employee and technically part of his family?
Ford glances around the diner, his expression relaxed and completely unbothered. “Let them look,” he says, his voice low and steady. He turns his gaze to me, those gorgeous blue eyes making me feel a bit melty. “I don’t give a fuck what people think, Sophia. I only care what you think.”
I smile at him despite the uncertainty swirling in my stomach. “I’m just worried about…about your reputation.”
“You let me worry about that, kitten. I want to know what you think. How you feel.”
“I feel…happy. To be here with you.”
Ford’s fingers continue to play with the lock of my hair, the gentle tug sending sparks dancing across my scalp. “Good,” he says, sounding pleased. “Because I’m happy to be here with you, too.”
The waitress comes by, her eyes flicking between me and Ford, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.
She’s friendly and to the point when she takes our order, and as she walks away, I stop caring about the continued stares of other patrons.
The diner buzzes around us, but it feels like we’re in our own little world.
I feel claimed, protected, and publicly his.
It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before, but I think I like it.
It’s heady. Intoxicating, being on Ford’s arm. On display as his.
“Is this real?” I ask after the waitress brings our coffees. I stir milk and sugar into mine as I wait for his answer.
Ford’s eyes are steady on me as he sips his black coffee. “It’s real, kitten. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if it wasn’t.”
“So…um.” I fidget, tracing circles on the Formica with my finger. “Where is this going, Ford? What are we, exactly?” My voice is quiet. I’m pretty sure this isn’t something I’m supposed to ask before we’ve even kissed, but I need to know. I like specificity.
He keeps playing with my hair, letting out a slow exhale.
“I don’t do flings, kitten. I’m not a casual kind of man.
You’re mine, and I don’t want you with anyone else.
I’m jealous. I’m possessive. And as far as what we are—I’m your Daddy and you’re my kitten.
Which, as far as I’m concerned, is far more serious and committed than calling myself your boyfriend.
I’m already more than that and I haven’t even touched you.
And you’re already more than my girlfriend, aren’t you? ”
I nod, my heart galloping wildly in my chest. None of this feels real, but I know it is. It’s real, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Say it,” he orders in the gentlest tone.
“I’m yours.”
“That’s right. You’re mine.”
Ford’s massive hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing against my heated skin, and I shiver at the feeling of his touch.
His eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the truth of everything he’s just said shining out at me.
I can see truth, and hunger. He looks like he’s ready to devour me, and god, I want to be devoured.
He leans in, his heated gaze dropping to my lips, and my heart pounds in my chest. I can feel the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his beard against my skin as he closes the distance between us.
His lips brush against mine, softly at first, a gentle tease of a kiss that makes me lean into him, desperate and needy for more.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, and I open for him, letting him in.
He explores my mouth, his tongue stroking against mine, and I can taste him—coffee and a hint of mint and man.
I moan softly against his mouth, and my hands find their way to his flannel shirt, gripping the material.
His hand moves from my cheek to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding me in place as he ravages my mouth. His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me tight against him.
I moan again, louder this time, as his tongue slides against mine, slow and unhurried. Tasting and teasing. His teeth graze my lower lip and I whimper against him, my body on fire. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, making me feel dizzy and drunk on his mouth.
My nipples are aching, my clit is throbbing, and I’m soaking my panties. His hand drops from my waist to my thigh, his fingers tracing patterns, making my skin catch fire through my leggings.
He pulls away, nipping at my lips. “Still wondering what this is?”
My breathing is ragged and I manage to shake my head.
“Good. Because that was the best kiss of my fucking life. Just like I knew it would be.”